


The Boy at the Hospital

by acercrea



Category: Football RPF
Genre: F/M, High School Thomas, Hospital
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:49:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3275594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acercrea/pseuds/acercrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brittany has just had surgery and Thomas is a volunteer at the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boy at the Hospital

The Boy at the Hospital

A/N: this story is for Brittany, because I promised her I would deliver her Thomas Müller since she just got out of the hospital. Unfortunately this is the best I could do, but I hope it is enough.

Disclaimer: I have nothing to do with Thomas Müller. This is just a story.

I was bored out of my mind the first time I met him. I was lying in my hospital bed, staring at the ceiling as I pushed the button that made it go up and down over and over again, because I was practically catatonic with boredom. My phone was dead, its charger and my laptop were out of reach, I had finished my book and the TV was broken. The only positive was that I had a room to myself, so there was no one here to see me spiraling slowly into madness. The drugs I was on for the pain were not helping.

I was about five minutes away from pushing the nurse call button, just so that I could have them get me my computer or phone charger, when the most beautiful boy I have ever seen walked into my room in a candy striper outfit. He was tall with short, slightly curly brown hair, bright blue eyes, and looked to be about my age.

I was still admiring him, when he walked up to my bed and said with the most amazing smile I have ever seen, “Hi, I am Thomas, how are you feeling?”

“I don’t think I have ever been this bored,” I said before I had a chance to think about what I was actually saying.

“That is not entirely what I meant, but I am sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do about that?” he asked with a chuckle as he checked to see if I had water in my jug.

“Can you hand me my laptop and phone charger? My phone is dead and there is a match on, so I desperately need to check the score,” I told him.

“What match?” he asked, handing me my laptop and plugging it into an open outlet next to my bed for me.

“Bayern Munich. They are playing Hanover 96, and you probably have no idea what I am talking about. Sorry, I have found that the drugs make it harder to do the mental filter thing,” I replied.

“You support Bayern? I have never met anyone else in this town who supports Bayern, one of the downsides of supporting a club that is based 7000 miles away, right?” he asked, his smile getting even bigger.

“Oh my god, you know what I am talking about, I think I love you,” I responded.

I hadn’t even realized what I said until he froze in the middle of plugging my phone charger into the wall. “Wow,” he started, as he stood up. “Those must be really good drugs. What are you on?” he asked, checking my IV bag.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“You just told me you love me,” he replied.

“I did not,” I said.

“You did. It is ok though, cute girls who support Bayern and are on pain medication after surgery get a pass. I have to finish my rounds, I will be back in half an hour, I want a score update when I get back, it should be half time by then,” he spoke as he walked toward the door.

“Thomas?” I called.

“Yes loopy girl?” he asked, turning around at the door.

“Call me Brittany,” I told him.

“As you wish,” he replied as he disappeared.

**

Our next couple of meetings went largely the same way, he came to check on me, bring me books, or magazines and we would chat about football. Once he brought me an ice cream sundae and we split it while we debated the odds of players transferring in January, and what it would do to the team. The only thing we could agree on was that Özil would be a great addition to Bayern if the rumors were true.

On my last evening in the hospital he came in right after dinner with a wheelchair and said, “In honor of your last night of boredom and confinement, I have a surprise. Do you trust me?” he asked.

“Let’s go,” I agreed, hoping out of bed as he hung my IV bag from the stand on the back of the wheelchair.

“So, where are we going?” I asked as we were waiting for the elevator a few minutes later.

“My favorite place in the hospital, that is all I am going to say,” he answered as the doors opened and he wheeled me inside, pushing the button for the second floor.

“Fine, be mysterious, but I am warning you right now, if you take me to the morgue, I am going to cut you with a scalpel,” I told him as the elevator went down.

“The morgue is in the basement,” was his reply as the doors opened.

“Here we are,” he said, parking me in front of a big picture window.

“Oh, look at the babies,” I squealed in response.

“I thought you might like it,” Thomas said, pulling up a chair beside me.

“I had no ideas you were such a softie, Thomas,” I teased him.

“I volunteer in a hospital, I need all the cheering I can get sometimes,” he replied.

“Whatever makes you sleep better at night,” I told him with a smile.

“Ok, I am going to be honest, I brought you down here for a reason. I have known you for three days, and you are one of the most amazing girls I have ever met. You like football, you support my team, you are interesting and passionate, and even on drugs you are easier to talk to than anyone I have ever met. I was wondering if you wanted to go out on a date with me sometime?” he asked taking my hand.

“I would love to,” I replied.

I started to lean into him, when from behind us someone said, “Thomas Müller, aren’t you supposed to be doing something other than making out in front of babies with a patient?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he agreed, hastily getting out of the chair and wheeling me back to the elevator.

The second we were in the elevator with the door shut, we burst out laughing. “That was close,” he joked, laying his hand on my shoulder.

For the rest of the elevator ride the only thing I was aware of was the warmth seeping through my gown from his hand. All too soon the doors opened and he moved his hand.

When we got back to my room, he helped me back into bed as he told me, “It is probably a good thing we didn’t kiss. Don’t get me wrong, I want to,” he said when he saw the hurt look that crossed my face, “but I love volunteering here, and if I kiss a patient, I risk that. While there is no law against it, there is a rule that candy stripers are not allowed to kiss a patient. I could lose my job,” he informed me, tucking some hair behind my ear.

“Well, then you should go, because I want to kiss you too, and I don’t know how much longer I will be able to resist,” I replied, starting to get lost in his eyes.

“Give me your hand,” he ordered. I obliged and he wrote his phone number on it, then kissed my forehead and quickly left the room, saying over his shoulder, “See you tomorrow, loopy girl.

**

It was time for me to check out the next day and I was feeling sad because I had not seen Thomas yet, and the nurse said that he was not scheduled that day.

“Why can’t I walk out again?” I asked the nurse who was wheeling me to the door.

“Hospital policy, I am afraid. You can stand as soon as we get you outside,” the nurse assured me.

“Ok, fine,” I grumbled.

“Who is picking you up?” the nurse asked as we walked across the lobby.

“My dad should be here any minute,” I told her as she stopped the wheelchair just outside the door.

“Ok, well, do you want me to wait with you?” she asked.

“No thank you, I will just sit here and wait,” I replied getting up and moving over to a bench with a view of the parking lot.

I had been sitting there for a couple of minutes when a car I didn’t recognize pulled up to the curb, and out hopped Thomas, with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, getting up to meet him half way.

“I talked your dad into letting me pick you up,” he replied simply.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because, Brittany,” he told me, handing me the flowers. “I like you.”

He stepped closer to me and once again tucked some stray hair behind my ear. Suddenly I felt like I had burst into flame, every part of me was on fire as he leaned in and kissed me on the lips gently.

A/N: Ok, let me know what you think, and if you liked it and want a fic of your own let me know.


End file.
